


A Widow's Soul

by ineffablesheep



Series: Atypical Daemons [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Atypical Daemons, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Daemons, Developing Friendships, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm going to make that a tag, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov-centric, POV Natasha Romanov, Red Room (Marvel), Tony Stark Does What He Wants, and I drafted it in the bath, brief cameo by Steve who is slightly an arse, they're all a lot messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 18:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19090525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablesheep/pseuds/ineffablesheep
Summary: When she might have been thirteen, or maybe eight, she thinks she remembers an instructor shouting at the remaining girls.You, with the fox, keep your feet planted!Weasel, pair with the wolf.Redhead, do that again and do it properly or I’ll make sure the Asset teaches you instead. And make sure you groom that fucking daemon of yours.When she joined Shield, she kept the habit, alongside her codename and her hair. She learnt Shield’s rules and tries to redeem herself. She takes mission after mission and can’t figure out if it’s helping or not. One mission she’s a scruffy shepherd, another a wildcat. She’s always the redhead.She doesn’t fail. She ignores the gossip.





	A Widow's Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I got to have a bath the other night!!! I fucking missed having a bath and I got to have one so I accidentally came up with this. I've nearly finished the sequel to Pride and Prejudice, but I've got tests at the moment and uni is taking all my time. This is the first thing I've written in ages and it's a little rough but I quite like it. Once I'm on break I intend to try and update everything I'm currently sitting on, I just gotta get there.
> 
> Also, it's not related to Pride and Prejudice but it does contain some elements cause basically every daemon idea I have right now is an AU of Pride and Prejudice but not in that verse or related to any others. I hope this is coherent, I am very tired and have a French test tomorrow so please let me know if there's any glaring mistakes.

Natasha didn’t keep a routine. When you were a spy, routine made you predictable, and if you were predictable you were dead. She made one exception to that rule however, and that was grooming her daemon. She usually trimmed Deanda’s coat once a month. Various breeds of dog, a few cats, she was them all. Deanda’s fur was long, and could pass as a dark German Shepherd if not for the odd patch of brindle tabby woven through. Her tail was fluffy, her ears too big for a cat and the wrong shape for a dog, and her claws were retractable – except for the digits that had no claw at all. Deanda was whoever she was needed to be, just like Natasha.

 

\--------- 

 

When she might have been thirteen, or maybe eight, she thinks she remembers an instructor shouting at the remaining girls.

 

_You, with the fox, keep your feet planted!_

_Weasel, pair with the wolf._

_Redhead, do that again and do it properly or I’ll make sure the Asset teaches you instead. And make sure you groom that fucking daemon of yours._

 

When she joined Shield, she kept the habit, alongside her codename and her hair. She learnt Shield’s rules and tries to redeem herself. She takes mission after mission and can’t figure out if it’s helping or not. One mission she’s a scruffy shepherd, another a wildcat. She’s always the redhead.

 

She doesn’t fail. She ignores the gossip.

 

\--------- 

 

Living in the tower with the other Avengers was surprisingly good and after a year or two, Natasha realised she hadn’t changed Deanda in a few months. Huh. Her daemon was a bit of a mess, her long fur fluffy and more ambiguous than Nat had ever let it be. It could wait. Fury had a long list of reports that he wanted looked over and returned asap.

 

\--------- 

 

She wasn’t surprised when Tony wandered into the kitchen, but she was when he plonked himself down on a barstool and stole her coffee right in front of her. He took a sip and hummed as the bitter taste woke him up enough to acknowledge her.

 

“Morning Tasha. How are my favourite Russians this morning?” How he managed to notice Barnes in the corner while barely conscious she’d yet to figure out. She’d seen him walk into several closed doors in this state, and once hold a conversation with a painting. A mystery for another time.

 

“Good, until someone stole my coffee.” She told him deadpan, pouring herself another cup. He blinked and stared at the stolen cup before looking back to her.

 

“Mine?”

 

“It is now. Don’t steal this cup and I might make you breakfast.” He didn’t reply, taking another sip and settling onto the stool properly. There was silence amongst the three as they enjoyed the morning. True to her word, Natasha put a couple of extra slices in the toaster for the coffee thief. She didn’t offer any to Barnes. He only ate food he made himself, and would only eat when alone.

 

The peace lasted up until Deanda hopped up on the barstool next to her plate, giving Tony a good look at her daemon.

 

“Did you give your Natling a new hairstyle? She’s looking extra lovely today. Extra fluffy. Is good.”

 

“Natling?”

 

“Yeah, your daemon.”

 

“Explain, Stark.” The life left her voice and she considered burning the toast as pre-emptive retaliation for whatever bullshit insult Stark was about to spout off. Natasha wasn’t stupid or unobservant. She heard the rumours, the snide comments that followed her down the halls of Shield.

 

_“I’m surprised she has a daemon.”_

_“You call that a daemon? It looks like a yeti’s hairball!”_

 

_“KGB’s best agent has a freak soul. Are you really surprised?”_

 

“She’s your soul, follows you around like a duckling although I presume – correct me if I’m wrong – she’s not a duck. She’s a Natling. Best one in the world.”

 

He was sitting there, as content as can be, sipping on her stolen coffee. There was a pleased little smile on his face that he didn’t try to hide. Like he hadn’t just thrown her like she was a child in training again. 

 

Natasha almost considered it a point of pride that no one commented on Deanda’s form to her face. That her well-earnt reputation preceded her and kept away those that would voice their opinions. Even Clint, who probably knew her best, didn’t comment on Deanda.

 

But Tony had just _complimented_ her daemon. Right to her face with Barnes to witness. She’d gotten compliments before, of course. Usually on missions where Deanda was particularly well groomed and the mark was making small talk or trying to get into her pants. Sometimes both. Never off mission, never when she’d neglected to groom Deanda into something recognisable. And he still just _sat there._ Absentmindedly he scratched his own daemon’s ears. His lioness, who always looked so broken inside yet carried herself like she was indestructible, rumbled contentedly. Big yellow eyes slowly blinked at Deanda in a way that hinted at trust given.

 

She would question the sincerity if it was from anyone else. Most people don’t have some kind of understanding though. Tony with the lioness, is the only one that Barnes doesn’t shy from, hide his kittens from. The man has four; each with just-opened eyes and small enough to fit in a hand. Steve still thinks they’re all Bucky’s, four parts of one soul. Natasha isn’t the only one who’s figured out there’s a kitten per person in Barnes’ mind.

 

The man in question is silently watching still, swamped in the many-pocketed hoodie that appeared one day and Barnes hasn’t taken off since. Natasha isn’t the only one who knows Barnes hides kittens and knives in the pockets. She knows that neither of the gifts came from her, and that Steve definitely wouldn’t approve of the knives.

 

She must have gotten lost in thought because Tony was gone from the room before she noticed. Natasha teased her fingers though Deanda’s coat. James watched through the Soldier’s eyes as she pet her dae- her Natling. Neither of them say anything.

 

Maybe she’d let it grow out a bit, try something new.

 

\--------- 

 

Tony asked one day, as only Tony would, if she could remember what Deanda used to be, before the KGB and the Red Room. She told him she didn’t remember, that she never knew. He nodded and went back to the holograms in front of him. She didn’t know who she was lying to.

 

She didn’t know if she was lying.

 

\--------- 

 

Natling is a stupid name, she decides. Fuck Tony and his easy acceptance of her soul. At least his daemon looks like something.

 

\--------- 

 

When she was a child, she and a dozen other little girls sat and watched as two older girls fought, the victor looking to the instructor for permission before snapping the frantic loser’s neck. A Widow was flexible, blending into the background and standing out from the crow. They were to be weapons, adaptable to any situation their handlers put them in. Natasha sometimes looks at Deanda and wonders if any other Widows survived. She decides she doesn’t want to know.

 

\--------- 

 

She’s lounging in the sun one afternoon and decided that Deanda needed a haircut. Just the fringe, where it’s gotten a little long over her eyes and is irritating hem both. Normally she’d do this in the privacy of her rooms but the sun was deep in her bones and filled her with laziness. She had a small knife on her. Easy.

 

Steve arrived in the middle of her work, Chihuahua racing around the room before coming to heel. He greets her with a simple ‘hey Nat’ before settling on the couch with a stack of papers. Reports maybe, perhaps Coulson’s love letters. He didn’t read them so it didn’t matter. His focus was on her and Deanda as she cut the last of the offending fur away and added it to the tidy pile next to her. She tucked the knife back where it came from.

 

“You aren’t going to trim the rest of her?” Deanda stretched out on her belly, odd shaped paws crossed before her. Natasha hummed. “You can’t tell what she is, she’s that scruffy. How do you know who you are? She’s so confusing.”

“She’s a Natling, the best in the world.” She murmurs and it doesn’t matter if he hears her or not. Deanda gazes up at her. Her tongue is rough and lolls slightly from her mouth and the sunlight catches the smile in her eyes. Natasha knows who she is.

**Author's Note:**

> According to the internet: Deanda means 'one who has deep truths hidden inside'. Whether it actually means that idek. Tony and Bucky weren't meant to be in here either, but the little shits decided that Natasha needed company so there. Also, Nat is literally trimming her own soul and that makes me sad thinking about that means so I'm going to go to bed now.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always treasured,  
> love you all,
> 
> Sheep x


End file.
